


That's Just How It Works

by round_robin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexual!Sherlock, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, not series two compatible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all fit together somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Just How It Works

**Author's Note:**

> First try at a threesome/polyamory fic. Sort of. Eh, you'll see. Basically Sherlock is asexual, but he does love John. John still likes to have a sex life, so Lestrade is very helpful in that capacity and more. And they make it all work.
> 
> Not betaed or Brit-picked, written like three seconds ago, so if anyone sees a typo that I missed, please include it along with your comment and I'll see to it.

Strong fingers dug deep into over-heated skin, raising light bruises that would fade before morning. But they would both know they were there. A little bit of proof that Lestrade always loved to have, something to show that this was real and he was part of it, not just some… sex toy.

“John,” he groaned. The man above him smirked and tilted a bit, changing the angle so the head of his cock kissed Greg’s prostate on every pass. Oh… he was so close now. He wanted it, wanted it so bad, but at the same time he didn’t want it. Because he didn’t want this to end.

A small whimper fell from between Lestrade’s lips and John leaned down to catch it with a kiss. “Shh, don’t worry. Take as much time as you want.” His lips moved from Lestrade’s to travel down his jaw and neck. “No rush on my end. There never is.”

“Yeah,” Greg nodded. “But there’s—oh, Christ do that again,” with a devious smirk, John circled his hips again, hitting different places inside of Greg. It took a moment for Lestrade to get his breath back and remember what he was trying to say. No matter what John’s faults, selfish lover was not one of them. No matter what Lestrade needed, John would give it. Physically, at least. “There’s always _his_ time table,” he finally managed. “And he won’t wait forever.”

John’s hips came to a stop and he pushed himself up to look into Greg’s eyes. “Hey,” he whispered, one hand combing through sweaty hair. “When I’m here with you, I am _here_ with _you_.” As if to prove it, John leaned back down and kissed Greg. Lestrade opened his mouth automatically and let his tongue seek out John’s. It wasn’t a long search.

Soon enough, John started moving again. This time, his hips moved much slower, slow enough to match the languid swipes of his tongue. Fucking Greg slow and deep, John tried to make him forget about certain other things. They weren’t important right now.

He could feel his orgasm coming on, so Greg tightened his hold. His hands moved to grip the back of John’s shoulders while his legs wrapped even tighter around his hips. He probably squeezed a bit harder than necessary, but this close to the point of no return, Lestrade could control his body about as well as he could control the sunrise.

One of John’s hands came up off the mattress and started stroking Greg’s cock, working it for all he was worth. In a burst of pleasure, Lestrade’s spine arched and he came. He couldn’t hear much over his shouts (probably due to the fact that most of his senses had turned off, save touch) but he knew John was following him with a shout of his own.

A few long seconds later and they both collapsed. It took another minute or two, but John managed to get himself together enough to roll off to the side. Though he knew he wouldn’t leave yet, Lestrade reached out to rest a hand on John’s chest. “Mmm, that’s nice,” John smiled, his eyes still closed as he tried to get things together. “Good?”

“Very,” Lestrade smiled. “As always.”

“I’m glad,” John opened his eyes and sat up, leaning over Lestrade for a kiss before standing up from the bed and stretching. John’s back was turned, so he didn’t see Greg’s face, but he knew what was there; this was the DI’s least favorite part.

One last stretch and John walked off to the bathroom to wash up. Lestrade heard the water racing through the pipes and rolled over to sigh into the pillows. He knew this was how it went, he really did. And not only did it go, it worked. It took three people to make Sherlock and John’s relationship work, and he was the willing third. Emphasis on willing. He did sign up for this.

A few minutes later, he heard John on the steps again. After he’d washed up, he would always come back to Greg for a second or two. The bathroom was closer to Sherlock’s bedroom, but John wouldn’t just leave Lestrade afterwards. It was part of what made this work: John was as considerate as one could be with this type of thing. Lestrade never knew why it sometimes put him off… oh wait, yes he did.

John appeared in the doorway, smiling over at the other man. He walked back in and started pulling on his pajama bottoms when Lestrade’s mouth started working without permission. “Do you ever think of him?” He blurted. “When you’re with me?”

John stopped moving. Slowly, he turned around to look at Greg, who was suddenly very busy playing with a thread on the duvet. “Greg,” John said. “Look at me.” Dragging his eyes back up, Lestrade saw John smiling softly at him. “I’ve told you before: I don’t. I really don’t.” One hand reached out to play with his hair as John continued to explain what they’d been over a hundred times. “He can’t give me what you can. I love him to death, but he just can’t.” John leaned in a little closer, until he was lying on the bed again. “So no, I don’t think of him, not ever. Because this—” he gestured between them. “He can’t do this. I can’t even imagine it. I can imagine you.” A bright smile lit his face. “In fact, I don’t have to imagine, because we just did it.”

Lestrade smiled too and leaned forward to snatch one last kiss. Really, he should know better than to doubt. Both he and Sherlock had their places in John’s life—they both had places in each other’s lives as well—and though it may not be art, it worked. It just did.

“You know,” John said when he pulled back. “You could come down with us? He usually doesn’t mind.”

No, no he didn’t. Sherlock didn’t mind any of this. He never competed for John’s attention (because he always knew it would come back to him) and he didn’t have these stupid flares of jealousy like Lestrade did. Well, if Sherlock could be civil about all this—which was a minor miracle in itself—then so could he.

“That’s alright,” Lestrade shook his head. “He had a tough case tonight and you should have some alone time.”

“Tough case?” John asked. This was the first he’d heard of it, though, between Lestrade shoving him up the stairs, tongue already in his mouth, while Sherlock waved them off, he didn’t have much time to ask, now did he? “Anything I should be aware of?”

“No, it wasn’t much, just Anderson being his usual self.” Translation: doubting everything that could or would ever come out of Sherlock’s mouth, thus making everything drag along and keep them out longer than needed.

“Right,” John nodded. “Well, I’m off.” One last kiss and he stood up, walking downstairs to see Sherlock.

The lights were all off, but John had made the trip between their rooms often enough that the darkness wasn’t bothersome. Soon enough, he was at Sherlock’s bedroom door, well, _their_ bedroom door. The room upstairs might as well belong to Lestrade what with how often he stayed there.

Sherlock was already in bed when John pulled the covers back and slid in beside him, his skin still warm from the shower. He spooned behind Sherlock and pulled him close. “Hello,” he whispered and dropped a kiss onto Sherlock’s neck.

“Hello,” Sherlock said. A moment of silence passed. Then: “You don’t have to wash him off your skin, you know,” he whispered. “I really don’t mind.”

John shrugged. “I just feel a bit guilty, you know? Crawling out of another man’s bed, half-covered in his spunk, and into your arms. That’s not exactly proper, is it?”

Sherlock smirked into his pillow. “Says the man in a polyamorous relationship with his flatmate and boss.”

John had to hide his smile at that, so he buried his face into Sherlock’s hair. “Never thought I’d see the day when you call Lestrade your boss.”

“Didn’t say he was my boss,” he said. “I said he was _yours_. You do take care of all our consulting paperwork, do you not?”

“Yes, yes, shut up.” Nose still pressed into Sherlock’s hair, John took a deep breath, breathing in the man he would do anything for. Well, he supposed he did that earlier as well. Both Sherlock and Greg were important parts of his life that he could not give up.

“He could’ve come down,” Sherlock said a moment later. “I rather like it when he’s here.”

John shrugged. “He thought you wanted alone time with me.”

“No,” Sherlock shook his head. “While the act itself is not my area,” he had to smirk at that, _not my area_ was as close as Sherlock would ever get to discussing sex. “I really do like when you both come in smelling like each other.” Rolling over, Sherlock let his long fingers trail down John’s neck. “It’s romantic.”

“Romantic,” John nodded. “Well, if you like the afterglow, what do you say to watching us next time? You’ve done it before, and I know Greg likes it.” John had to close his eyes for a second and will his erection away. Watching them together was as close as he’d ever gotten Sherlock to actual sex and just the memory of it could get him hard again. He had to take a moment to will the stirrings in his cock to stop, as Sherlock would not appreciate that. “I like it too, actually.”

“Maybe,” Sherlock said. “I’m tired now, can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Sure,” John nodded. A few minutes later, they were both asleep, John warm and post-coital in Sherlock’s arms.

Upstairs, Lestrade slept alone, but it wouldn’t stay like that. Sometime in the middle of the night, he’d get up to use the loo and decide that it would be easier to slide in with Sherlock and John than go back upstairs. Sherlock would wake and welcome him to settle in on his other side. John would wake the next morning with the glorious fortune of watching his boyfriend and his lover cuddled together for a few minutes. Then, they would all get up and go about their days. Because that’s just how it works.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said: first try at a multi fic, so concrit would be lovely. Mostly feedback in general would be great to see if I should ever try anything like this again.


End file.
